


The Light Touches You

by bellygunnr



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends, F/F, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-08-18 18:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20196484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: “Yes, but we emerged victorious, as always,” Emperor replies coolly. “The King’s Road is unstoppable and insurmountable.”“As it should always be. A King’s reign should be--”“Ruled with an ironfist and long-lasting,” Emperor finishes automatically. “Yes, father. And you know that I will not let you down.”





	1. Insurmountable

** _“The soles of your shoes-- aren’t they a nice color now?”_ **

Emperor crushes the can of soda in his hands, teeth locking together as a fresh wave of rage rocks through his very core. Sticky, syrupy liquid spills without remorse over his hands and arms, miraculously avoiding his expensive and long-hanging coat. He tosses the can aside with another growl and sweeps away from his team, who stare after him with concern and surprise. Ever since the last Tournament battle-- Monarch vs. Yellow-Green-- the King had been disrupted and disturbed. It did not bode well for any of them.

Eging Jr. looks to N-Pacer, his usual grin faltering slightly. “So uh, are you talking to him, or am I?”

“We both will, Eging,” she sighs. A scowl has settled over her features. She looks sharper and more austere than ever before-- outright dangerous. “Lord knows he needs it.”

So they wait for Emperor to return from the washroom, each tending to their own thing. Prince is absorbed in a book he found and thus far has noticed nothing-- though he perks up when he hears the odd silence, the lack of his brother’s commanding voice filling the room. His ears fall as he looks between Eging Jr. and N-Pacer, then the mess on the floor.

“...What… happened?” he asks, uncertainly.

“The King’s own rage precedes him,” is all N-Pacer says, rising to her feet. “I’m going to clean up the mess. What a waste of a good soda.”

Shortly after Pacer finishes cleaning up the mess, Emperor returns, his composure reinstated in all but voice. He sits down exactly where he had been before, oblivious to the mess and how it had disappeared.

“I’m going to make that commoner pay for defiling my name like that,” Emperor fumes. “Tch! I have not sullied myself in enemy ink since the first time I entered Turf War and he ruins my streak like that? And with such a comment! Who does he think he is?”

“He’s the Guy from Inkopolis,” Pacer informs him. “Does that title sound familiar to you?”

“The Guy--- no. You can’t be serious,” Emperor hisses back, completely taken off track.

Prince and Eging look at each other from across the room. Prince’s mouth is formed into a little, surprised ‘o,’ while Eging’s grin has loosened into a wary smirk. In turn, they peer at their friends.

“I am, I am. He was our biggest rival a couple years ago. Then he disappeared and we were back to playing with scraps. Of course, the S4 came shortly afterward, so perhaps that’s a little harsh…”

“...But he used an NZAP ‘89 then,” Emperor realizes slowly. “And…”

“He did not dress like a goth punk,” Pacer says happily. “Here-- look at this.”

She shows Emperor her phone and the list of articles she’s dredged up-- all of them headlining about the mysterious disappearance of Rider. A couple even talk about his reappearance-- “Rider, back from the dead, and stronger than ever!”

“That’s… not what I was going to say, but you are right.”

Emperor was less irritated by the lime Inkling and more fascinated now, introduced as he was to the mysteries befalling the powerful Dynamo wielder. He remembers the brief rivalry they had together-- a King locked in battle against an unruly subject, such as the media had painted it. It had been exciting then but...

Well, at least it explained some of the comments he got before the battle.

“I want to know more about Rider!” Emperor announces loudly. “I will be back, everyone. Have a good day. Prince? Beautiful work.”

Prince looks up from his book, confused. “I didn’t do anything…?”

Emperor disappears, the door slamming.

“You’re his brother. That’s enough for him,” Eging smirks.

+

Inkopolis Square was quite the walk from where the Monarch Team gathered but it was nothing for the King to endure, even under the cruel summer heat. It was the sharp ringing of his phone that brought his world grinding to a halt, that incessant, repetitive tone that could only mean one thing-- his father.

His father was calling.

With a forced smile, Emperor swipes to answer the call, raising the phone to his ear.

“Good day, father.”

“_Good day, son. I’ve just finished your most recent match-- I see that you had quite the battle against those ruffians._”

“Yes, but we emerged victorious, as always,” Emperor replies coolly. “The King’s Road is unstoppable and insurmountable.”

“_As it should always be. A King’s reign should be--_”

“_Ruled with an ironfist and long-lasting_,” Emperor finishes automatically. “Yes, father. And you know that I will not let you down.”

“_Do not be short with me, boy._”

“Of course not, father. Forgive me.”

“_Your next battle is in two days from now. I will be watching, so put on a show for me, will you?_”

“Of course, father.”

“_Good day, son_.”

The call ends before Emperor even has a chance to say good-bye. He sighs through his nose, nostrils flaring, ears flipping back against his head. His father demanded everything from him. His punishments were short but brutal. Emperor had to do more than win the final battle-- he had to crush his opponents, destroy them from the inside out.

He had to ensure they would never play Turf War again.

His father would punish him for enacting anything less.

Mood soured, Emperor finishes walking into Inkopolis Square, scanning the bustling center with appraising golden eyes. A bell behind him jingles and a shoulder catches his, making him bristle and whirl--

“Watch where you’re going!”

“Don’t stand in front of the door then, idiot!”

_Oh._

The two Inklings stare at each other, momentarily taken aback. Rider recovers first, making a noise of disgust in the back of his throat as he pulls away from the King, another lime inkling close behind. Emperor gathers his composure and grabs at Rider’s shoulder, pulling him back.

“Do not walk away from me like that! I have something I wish to discuss with you, Rider, if you will permit me.”

Rider’s friend-- Stealth, if Emperor remembers correctly-- has to subdue his captain, as far as Emperor can tell. There’s a series of sharp, imperceptible movements between the two of them, a flash fire struggle, before Rider calms down and Stealth can relax.

“Permission denied,” Rider says harshly. “For the record? Don’t touch me. Ever. I’ll kick your shit in next time.”

_Read: if Stealth hadn’t stopped me, I would have decked you._

Emperor swallows.

But the King will not be deterred.

“I apologize. That was incredibly rude of me. But I implore you to rethink-- we have already fought. Why can we not talk to each other not as rivals but as colleagues? Professional to professional?”

“Today isn’t a good day,” Rider snarls. “What do you want to talk about, anyway?”

“Our rivalry! Of a couple years ago-- do you recall?”

“...Right,” Rider sighs, the fight leaving his body as quickly as it came. “...Yeah. I figured you didn’t remember me.”

“Well, for the longest time, I didn’t--!” Emperor pushes on, excited, hopeful that his hook had caught. “Why don’t we go to the Cafe and talk about it, yes? I have lots of questions about my old rival.”

“I said today isn’t a good day,” Rider repeats, aggressive once more. “It really isn’t. Why don’t we talk after the tournament is finished?”

Emperor stares, uncertain of what to do with himself in the face of such a blatant rejection.

“We-- well, I suppose that would be just fine,” he concedes with a huff.

The King watches Rider and Stealth walk away, talking in low tones to each other as they do so. Then Rider laughs, a surprisingly gentle sound, and they disappear into the crowd.

He’s calling Pacer before he even knows what hit him.

+++

Rider appears to be serious about not speaking to Emperor before the end of the Tournament. Any attempts to find him or contact him fall through in spectacular fashion-- the lime inkling and his team have apparently vanished. Not even sly probes into the whereabouts of Rider’s acquaintances draw any leads to his whereabouts.

The final battle looms ever closer.

Eging punches his shoulder playfully.

“Man, we should go watch that last battle. The winner gets to be our dinner, after all!”

“Our opponent,” Pacer corrects him quietly.

Prince fidgets with something in his pocket.

+++

Very few had been expecting it, but Blue Team were now the Monarch’s opponents, their tense laughter audible from opposite ends of the map. A brief glance at the Jumbo Screens above told Emperor that they were smiling-- smiling! How could they smile when their imminent demise was upon them?

“Tell me again what the public calls these fools…?”

“Idiot Team,” Pacer supplies. “But they have quite the repertoire-- they have defeated nearly every team they’ve come across.”

“I see. Well, that certainly won’t continue any longer. By the time we’re through with them, they’ll never wish to Turf again.”

Emperor takes his place as point as the timer for battle begins to wind down.

Prince tightens his grip on his Splat Dualies, stomach flipping queasily.

The buzzer sounds, reverberating through the stage and releasing the battlers into the venue upon which a bitter struggle would ensue.

  
+++

Headphones, from her place above the world, can see that Team Monarch moves with cold efficiency-- they have no openings. Gold ink becomes the only thing she can see even as the first members of Blue and Monarch clash, becoming locked in a series of struggles. She fires a single shot at Emperor’s feet-- enough to throw him into a dodge roll as Glasses comes down on him.

From her perch, she sees that Bobble has led the Clash Blaster to a place she can’t see, and Goggles is exchanging fire with the other dualies.

But where was the sniper…?

  
Pacer eases her way out of the ink, Splatterscope gripped firmly, its barrel already glimmering with a full charge.

“Oh, my. It’s bad to look away.”

She looses the shot.

Headphones disappears-- and Pacer is not rewarded with a fluttering Inkling soul.

+

Prince is having trouble keeping track of the Splattershot’s wild dancing movements. His usual method is not working-- Goggles has no set tempo, he is a wild beat, and the narrow spread of his Splat Dualies does nothing to help him. Worse, Goggles seems to be trying to initiate something with him!

“Stand still!” Prince cries out.

Goggles laughs loudly, firing his Splattershot at Prince’s abdomen, throwing him into a dodge roll.

Prince gasps as Goggles tries to copy his dodge roll and simply flops behind a metal crate.

“Y- your center of balance is wrong. Also, that’s illegal,” Prince stammers.

+

Eging Jr. pops up behind Bobble, finger already pressed against the trigger of his Clash Blaster but not yet firing. He gasps as the slosher whips around to face him, bucket full of dark blue ink.

“Woah! You’re quick, girlie!”  
He speeds around her, to the opposite side.

“This way?”

Eging hisses in surprise.

+

“And who are you?” Emperor says coolly, eyes tracking the haphazard movements of the Octobrush before him.

“I’m the Captain!” Glasses cries, lashing the Brush across Emperor, even though his body is trembling and his voice shakes. “Your road ends--!”

+

Goggles and Prince are dancing around each other now, laughing between themselves-- Prince wonders if they’re trying to splat each other at all now.

“Glasses!”

Their duel grinds to a sudden stop. The first death of the match.

“All good, Goggles?”

“Thank you, Glasses!”

Prince looks on in confusion, then horror.

+

“You were a lot of fun, Bobble! But you end here!”

Bobble yelps as she takes the Clash Blaster shot directly.

+

Pacer’s next shot is true.

Headphones takes it across the chest.

+

Emperor finishes off Goggles in quick, merciless fashion, immediately whipping around to roar at Prince before the other’s soul is off the ground. He bares his teeth and flares his ears, the tips glowing gold-- a miniature threat display at his own blood.

“This battle is worth more than your life, Prince. Do not throw it away to fraternize with commoners. Win definitively. Leave no room for error or mercy.”

Prince’s smile slips and once more, he shuts down, obedient to his brother’s iron grip.

“The King’s Road does not falter!” Emperor shouts, and the Monarchs advance like nothing ever happened.

+

Tension crackles between the golden Monarchs. Goggles can sense it, especially as they rush ahead, furiously painting blue. His plan had worked-- a wedge had been driven into the construct of the King’s Road.

Glasses pops out of one of the many lanes of Walleye Warehouse, protected by the tough plastic shield of a Baller, his balance impeccable.

“That’s our Captain!” Goggles shouts.

The Road scatters.

As the Baller explodes, the rest of Blue Team is there to keep up the assault.

+

Prince looks between Eging and Emperor.

His gaze hardens, bright and flinty.

“Junior, follow me! Pacer, please give me the support I need!”

Eging pumps his fist in the air and whoops, happily trotting after the younger of the two Kings. The Road, with no chance to reassemble, is now in shambles as three Monarchs fall out of line, meeting their adversaries step for step. Walleye Warehouse is no ballroom, yet its inhabitants are dancing, weaving amongst each other in a rare display of honest skill and power.

Pacer can’t help but admit that while Blue Team are shoddy and messy, they have potential and quick wit.

Headphones’ grip has never been so tight on her charger. She squeezes the trigger, aiming at Emperor in the back of the line.

She’s met with the full force of an Inkjet’s cannon.

+

Emperor roars as he’s propelled high above the rest of the battlefield, prompting his brother to join him in the air. With their combined strength, Blue Team is once again splatted, and Prince is cowed back to silence.

“That was… cruel, brother,” Prince murmurs. “She didn’t deserve that.”

“Oh, and what did she deserve? She’s a commoner-- she should be grateful for garnering my attention!”

Much more loudly, Emperor begins to speak, his voice rallying the King’s Road back on their merciless path. To his chagrin, the battlefield does not grind to a cold halt, and his back burns with the gaze of his father.

A Stingray’s blue tail launches across the map.

It arcs across the high-flying Monarchs.

Pacer sets down her own Special, body cold with shock.

Eging Jr. stares up in shock as Prince and Emperor explode, Splatted apart.

  
A foghorn blares. The match is over.


	2. Rebuffs and Rivalries

After the battle, the Hozuki household was a minefield. It was impossible for anyone to navigate the mansion through all the tension and rage that had accumulated steadily since Monarch's defeat. Not even Pearl could deflect their parents' rage. She could only shelter them until their father was ready to "greet" them.

Emperor had suffered it before. Prince? He had only ever seen the aftermath. Pearl could only hope their father spared him.

Yet as the door opened and their fragile bubble burst, she knew it could not be. With all the flair and bass tones of a villain in a shitty action movie, Hozuki senior swept her brothers away.

It was a silent affair. It always was.

Pearl wonders if she can sabotage it somehow.

\--

Rider winces as Emperor's voice cuts through the Square. It had been a week since the Monarch Team lost to Blue Team-- plenty of time since he had rebuffed him. He leans against the awning post of a shop as he waits for Emperor to approach. He has an idea of what he wants.

Emperor is as tall and regal as ever.

"Afternoon, King," Rider says. "What do you want?"

"Are you free today? I really would like to talk to you. Privately, if that's what you prefer."

Rider sighs. He had been hoping the King would have forgotten about that. He didn't like talking on a good day. What made him think he was going to get anything on a bad one?

"I'll bite, King. Where do you want to talk?"

"At my... Mm, you choose the location, why don't you?" Emperor says, smiling kindly. "I am prying into your life, after all."

Ah. It seemed the King was aware of what he was doing. Surprising.

"Fine. Follow me. Make one bad remark and I'll put you out for the dogs," Rider says. He waves an arm, gesturing for Emperor to follow.

He doesn't see Emperor smile with relief.

Rider led Emperor to the meeting grounds of Yellow-Green. It was the most private place he had next to his home, but he wasn't willing to show off his address to just anyone. Hell, not even his Team knew where he lived. At least, if any of the others saw Emperor here, they knew better than to question Rider.

But if they did question him, he wouldn't really mind it.

They met in a basement that they rented out-- or used to rent out. It was a surprisingly cozy affair.

The interior was covered in posters-- various shows that Stealth liked, schedules and calendars, marked up pictures of Turf venues. A dry erase whiteboard was shoved in a corner. In the center, a table and chairs had been arranged. It was clear who sat where simply by the orderliness of each station.

"Pick a seat. Just not mine," Rider says. He flops down in his usual place at the head of the table. He watches as Emperor carefully selects the one closest to him. Blazer's, usually. "Now feel free to ask away, King."

"You can call me Emperor, you know," Emperor says, eyebrow raised. "Not just King."

"Emperor. Ask away," Rider reiterates.

Ah. The air was already thick.

"Well... Chiefly, why'd you disappear? You know, I remember when you first vanished. You missed a rematch with me," Emperor says. His voice has a new inflection, as if he had missed a beat.

"I simply left Inkopolis. Didn't have time to tell anyone," Rider says stiffly. "Went to the countryside with my mother."

Emperor hums, surprised. "I see. For two years?"

"Yeah. She was ill. She went to live with her family."

Emperor feels cold all of a sudden. Rider was speaking in past tense-- that was concerning.

"How is she doing?" Emperor asks.

"Dead."

"I'm terribly sorry," Emperor says gravely. "That's horrible."

To his shock, Rider merely shrugs, leaning back in his chair. He folds his arm across his chest.

"Anything else, King?"

Rider's voice hadn't been cold before. It wasn't now, though even Emperor could tell that something had changed. Yet it wasn't in his nature to give up so easily.

"And your Dynamo? Those things might be legal but they're not sold in stores, Rider."

"My weapon is of no concern to you," Rider says, voice finally frigid. "You'd do best not to inquire about it."

This really was not going well at all. He wasn't sure how it was supposed to go, of course, but at every corner Rider was giving him the cold shoulder. Was he supposed to infer that Rider's mother gave him the Gold Dynamo Roller...?

"I see. What about your style choices, then?"

Rider barks a laugh. "Now you're grasping at straws, King! Come on, what I wear or don't wear doesn't matter. That's like asking why you haven't changed coats for the past what, eight years? The jacket's from my mother."

Such a punch in the face everything was that Emperor nearly missed the last part of the sentence. So, the jacket was from his mother. Huh.

"Yeah, she dressed like a real punk. Biker gang and everything. Might as well keep up the spitting image, you know?"

Emperor nods slowly. "Of... course. I see. Well, then. I'm glad you've been doing well. You gave Inkopolis quite a scare, disappearing like that."

"Inkopolis... yeah, _sure_ I did," Rider says, voice bitter. "Anyway, what is this? You want to be friends or somethin'?"

Now that he thought about it, Emperor wasn't sure what he wanted. He wanted a distraction, for sure, from the horrors of home. He wanted to find a safer, separate space for his team and his brother. But looking for that from Rider?

Not likely.

"You don't do friends, I thought," Emperor says finally. Because that's the safest thing to say.

"And you don't speak to commoners," Rider shoots back.

Hmph. Touché.

"Fine. I don't know about friends, per se, Rider, but if you want to be rivals again? I won't say no."

Rider looks back at him, eyebrow raised, clearly skeptical.

"Dunno if I have a choice, King," he says.

They part ways at that. Emperor leaves feeling confused and muddied.

\--

Eging Jr. sprawls out across Prince's bed, mindful of all the disassembled Dualie parts scattered across the bed. The ink tanks for the little shooters had rolled off somewhere. Their toolkit was in utter disarray. He worries that they might lose something in the high chaos of Prince's room.

"Come on, let's take a break. We've been at this for hours."

"No! I want to do this now!" Prince whines. "I want to change out the special all by myself!"

"Looks like the Inkjet wants to stay in, though," Eging points out. "You ain't no engineer, Prince. Why didn't you just send'em into Ammo Knights?"

Prince doesn't respond for a long time. Eging lets him fall into concentrated silence, watching him unscrew the Inkjet Special Chip out from its fastening. It was an easy to break piece of tech. He knew it took delicate hands to handle the Chip.

Hozukis had delicacy in spades, though. Even Pearl for all her bold rhythms and rhymes was delicate.

"Because... working on stuff like this makes me feel better. I've been fucked up ever since Monarch lost to Blue Team. I hate it!"

"Language, little man. I know, it shook all of us up, but..." Eging trails off, unsure of how to continue. "But... Y'all doin' okay over here?"

Prince is silent for a long time. Eging grows worried as it stretches out.

"We're fine!" Prince chirps, smiling.

+

The kitchen crackles with tension. Pearl glares down at her burnt toast with rage and offense, as if the bread had specifically caused all of her issues in life. Her father ate his lunch in frigid silence behind her. The jar of jelly she has clinks against the wooden counter top.

"That's a child's meal, Pearl," her father says, voice sneering.

"Who cares what it is, Dad?" Pearl snaps back. "You went too far last week."

"I did nothing of the sort. I gave them both punishments befitting of Kings. They failed me in equal measures, as sons, and as men."

"You went too far! Prince isn't a fucking man-- he's fifteen! He is _fifteen!_ And he's wasting his life away trying to be the best, for what? So he can live a life you never got to live?"

**CRACK.**

Pearl flinches back as her father slams his fist against the hardwood table. She's immediately furious at herself.

"You hurt them both!" Pearl cries.

"If they got hurt, then that means they are weak! How dare you insinuate that I do not live how I want to? There is a standard, Pearlie. Just because you never got to live up to it doesn't mean your brothers won't."

Her father is a tall, tall man, scraping seven feet in height, his tentacles arranged in an elegant braid behind him. Makeup makes his expression austere and frightening. His hands curled into fists, knuckles dug into the table, reveal the short fuse of his temper. Pearl struggles to look him straight in his eyes-- eyes whose pupils are ruby red banded with gold. Royalty.

Monarchy.

Hozuki.

Pearl shoves aside her own food with all the anger she couldn't vocalize. She's stinging, hurt by her father's words.

_"Maybe I don't want to live up to your bullshit Hozuki standards!"_

She dreams of saying it.

The kitchen falls into a glacier's otherworldly silence.

\--

Pacer knows that in the silence of the Monarch Team's lounge, things are not well. Prince and Emperor hadn't been seen for several days. Even Eging had made himself scarce, though she knew that he was with Prince. And when Eging was with Prince?

Prince usually wasn't well. Which meant Emperor wasn't well.

So of course her best course of action was to brew some tea in their tiny kitchen and have a tiny tea party to herself. Her Splatterscope is sat across from her, perfectly polished and calibrated. She sips daintily from an ornate tea cup.

It's quiet.

She misses the chatter of her friends. But today would be different-- her friends would come back, as they always did, because that's what she heard on the battlefield. Her Splattershot had been tampered with. If it hadn't been, then today would be the same as any other.

Lonely and quiet.

She only had to wait.

And she only had to wait an hour.

Pacer was on her second cup of tea when the door opened suddenly. She remains silent as Emperor approaches her, also quiet, only pausing to look at the Splatterscope in his seat. She shrugs when he looks at her.

"How are you doing, Emperor?" Pacer says gently.

"I went to talk to Rider," he says, sitting beside her. He feels weird sitting right here.

"And how did that go?"

Pacer gets up to fix Emperor a cup of black tea, especially as he speaks.

"I have a feeling he still doesn't like me," Emperor starts. He watches his friend. Pacer was always elegant. "Which is, I suppose, perfectly fine, if uncalled for. But he was very rude."

"Did you find out why he vanished, though?" Pacer sets the black tea in front of Emperor, humming at his thanks. She gestures for him to continue.

"Well, yes, and it's rather quite sad..."

They sit in a new, comfortable silence. Pacer waits patiently as Emperor deliberates between telling her or not telling her Rider's secrets. He takes a long drink of tea.

"His mother died while he was out visiting her. She was ill," Emperor finally admits.

"Oh, poor thing," Pacer sighs. "No wonder he left. I'd do the same. Anything else?"

"Oh, not much else. I offered to be rivals again. You know, I think he and his team may be proper competition. We haven't had that for a long time."

Emperor sticks his tongue out, having burnt the end with the tea.

\--

Blazer's surprised to see Rider already in the basement. She lets her schoolbag slide from her arms to the floor, loudly announcing her presence before approaching him. He looked deep in concentration. It was never good to startle Rider like that.

"You're here early," Blazer says. "What're you up to?"

"Mm, nothing... Checking my schedule and stuff. Emperor wants to be rivals." Rider slides the papers away from him, leaning back. He looks perturbed.

"Eh? Rivals? Like from an anime or something?"

"Yeah, it sounds weird when you put it like that. It was this huge thing a few years ago, though," Rider chuckles. He relaxes as Blazer takes her usual spot.

Much better.

"Right, I remember. What do... rivals... even do? There's no tournament for a while," she muses. She peers over the scattered papers before arranging them neatly. "I mean, I don't really like the Monarch Team, if I'm honest. They seemed cold."

"Mhm. They've always been like that. I dunno if we have a choice. Hey, aren't you early, too?"

She nods, embarrassed. "I left some of my homework last night! It's due tomorrow, so I really gotta get it done."

"D'you need help looking for it?" Rider asks, concerned. He moves to stand up.

The two of them search for the missing homework for a couple minutes. Finally, it's found tucked away under Stealth's many folders and manuals, and they parted ways. Rider finds himself reluctant to go home.

Being alone was getting harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Silvalina and CyberneticSpud for being my lovely Betas. You can find them both on Tumblr under @smug-silvalina and @cyberneticspud.


End file.
